Breaking Up is Hard to Do
by ultrafreakyfangirl
Summary: Joe/Natalie break-up fic. Angst (ish). Short one-shot.


**_Author's Note: distantmuse gave me a challenge. Break them up. This is what I did with that. _**

Joe prided himself on not being a fighter, a lover, but not a fighter, as the cliché saying goes, _really _he did, but she was making it so fucking hard. Almost _fucking impossible._ She was not letting up, her words getting louder, turning more aggressive than passive, with every passing second. She was yelling at him about the stupidest thing, or at least, that's how it started out.

And as it went with the two of them, when they fought, sex usually followed, the abhorrence rougher, spoken in the vulgar, sordid, language of hair pulling and dick grabbing.

The first time, as in the first time _today_, he'd stopped her ranting with a searing bite to her lower lip, before he kissed and sucked her into submission and she practically draped herself against the wall, all soft, delicate, ready and willing, and so he fucked her; but he didn't fuck her like she was a princess, pretty and nice, no, he fucked her like she was the god damn service wench, like she was nobody, nothing to him but a body to be used as a vessel for his own arousal. She loved it.

By the end, she couldn't even remember why she had been mad at him in the first place. Until the color left her face and the pleasure that had kept her flying high, gradually faded from her body. Then she could remember. _You fucking piece of shit._

Like he said, it was stupid. He had reached out to _State Senator Fig_, otherwise known as _Jason Figueroa_, who is otherwise known as Natalie_ Figueroa's _gay_ and not-yet-ex_ husband. All he wanted was some advice on how to deal with her crazy, fucking_, fucking hot_, but crazy nonetheless, ass.

She was hormonal as fuck and he couldn't figure out why, and he somehow, for reasons he would rather not discuss, knew the ins and outs of her cycle, so he knew that it wasn't that.

So, instead of straight up asking her if she was pregnant, because it had been such a hot-button topic between them these days, with as many failures as there had been times they'd had sex the last few months. He didn't want to risk setting her off. In retrospect, calling Jason may not have been the best move. He'd admit that.

But she had been married to the guy for half of her life, and as much as Joe sometimes hated to admit it, because while he wasn't so much a jealous man, he was still every bit territorial as one, which probably said what he wasn't.

They had been through this before, Jason and Natalie, six-weeks pregnant, knees up to her chest on the bathroom floor, and scared shitless; scared shitless because it was something she's wanted without ever realizing it before, and because, less than two weeks later, there was blood staining her white dress.

She'd stopped wearing dresses that day. And the color white. Both gone, just like whatever had been developing inside of her was. Their embryo. Their fetus. Their baby. _Gone._ Just like that, in the seconds it takes for blood to soak through clothing.

He only called Jason because he didn't want to subject Natalie to further hurt and pain in reliving any of that, in the time it takes for him to ask_, 'could you be pregnant?'_

"Why would you call him, Joe? _Huh?_ Answer me that. Why would you ask_ him_ instead of, I don't know, asking me? Like a _fucking adult_?"

"Because I knew you would react like this." He spoke calmly, his voice level, even if his words were not. "I knew you would go absolutely _bat-shi_t _crazy_."

She laughed, but it was harsh, unfunny.

"Me!? I'm _bat-shit crazy_? That's rich. Just call the kettle black, Joe. Because only an_ insane_ person would call somebody's ex-husband without their knowledge and ask them what their fucking pregnancy symptoms looked like."

He sighed, nowhere close to winning this battle, but he wasn't ready to give up, not yet.

"I did it out of _love,_ Natalie. I did it because I couldn't stand to see you in that much pain. You could barely get the words out the first time. How am I just supposed to watch you struggle again? Especially if it turned out that you weren't pregnant."

She crossed her arms over her chest, stood shoulder-width apart. Defensive. "Fuck you."

"Nat – "

"You knew the chances of me being actually pregnant were next to none. You knew that, yet your big, fucking optimistic, piece of shit, heart decided to believe in miracles. And you know what they say about miracles."

"That they happen once in a lifetime?"

She rolled her eyes at him, pursed her lips. "Fuck that. Fuck my uterus, fuck your sleepy sperm, fuck my expired eggs, fuck Jason for saying anything to you, and fuck you, Joe, for going behind my back, for betraying my trust like that."

He reached out a hand to try and touch her, but she pulled away, closing herself off again as she hugged herself, tight and impenetrable.

"No. I'm serious. And you know what else? Fuck you, for making me love you. You think you're so special, _Joe Caputo?_ Selfless and caring, to a fault, with a big, fucking, dick to boot? No. You're not special. You're a fucking weasel. And I hate weasels. I can't date a weasel, and I certainly can't live with one. "

"Wait, what are you saying? Natalie don't be like this._ Please_. I told you I was sorry. That it was a mistake, that I regretted it _the second_ he picked up the phone. You have to believe me."

He reached for her again, not respecting of her personal boundaries anymore. The time had come and gone for that. He grabbed onto her arm pulled her closer, but she yanked it away and stepped back. Way back.

"It's not the question of whether or not I believe you, Joe. It's that you did something that I don't think I can get past. And an apology isn't going to be enough this time."

He knew that tears were forming in his eyes by the telltale burning sensation behind them. He wouldn't blink them away. She needed to see him hurt. She needed to see just how much this was hurting him. How _god damn desperate_ he was not to let her go. He couldn't just let her go, like this.

"Then what is? _What is_? Please tell me, Natalie. _Tell me_ so I can make it right."

She shook her head, her own tears falling, free and without shame down her cheeks, snaking across her neck and chest, visible by the tank top she'd chosen to wear today. Red, his favourite color to see on her. Altogether, sweatpants and a tank top – exposed chest and shoulders, the unapologetic casualness of the whole thing, was his favorite look on her.

He couldn't believe they were having a fight, _this_ fight, right now.

With him being into men and all, Joe had thought that Jason couldn't touch the two of them, because the physical temptation was out of the picture, but he hadn't even considered that despite his sexual orientation being what it was, there was still the emotive temptation, a connection that ultimately, clearly, had the power to break theirs apart.

"Nothing. There's nothing you can say to me. There's nothing you can do to make this right. It's already _so fucking wrong."_

She turned her back on him and left the room, then left the house, softly shutting the door behind her, and somehow, the dulcet click made her that much louder. Her intentions were clear. She didn't plan on coming back tonight, if at all.

He felt definitively broken, as if he'd ripped half of his heart out of his chest and taken it with her, only to throw it on the ground and stomp on it, leaving it to whither and weep for her, before she'd even walked down the driveway.

Before, he'd thought _Lisa_ had broken his heart, but this, this was a hundred times that, this was immeasurable on any scale, a kind of depression and sadness that seeped into his body and made his bones ache, a kind that made him want to stop breathing, because with each rise and fall of his chest, there was an intense, stabbing pain, both of loss and longing.

These days, he's been able to admit to himself that he needs her in order to be okay. He didn't need to be good, or great, he just needed _okay_. Watching her leave their house, watching her leave him and all that they've built on together, Joe was afraid that he might never feel okay again.

…

She didn't know what made her do it. Not really. She'd been mad at him, but not that mad. Not really. Sure, he'd called the man she had once shared every part of herself with, and she'd never been able to share like that with anybody else, not even Joe, and of course she felt bad thinking that, believing that, but there was truth there, and those two men combined, knew all of her secrets, every one of her vulnerabilities. It was like standing naked in front of a god damn fucking mirror.

So, sure, she was upset, she may have even been livid with him, but she had never been a runner. Not like that. She didn't share much, kept herself pretty tight knit, but that didn't mean she would run. She wanted to stick around so that she could see the man work for it, to see him try and make her feel special, so maybe, just maybe, she would open up, and make them feel special in return.

With Jason, early on, it had seemed easy, and for some reason, maybe it was those fucking puppy dog eyes, with Joe it was even easier, but not at first. Definetly not at first. They were about six months in before she trusted him with anything substantial.

So for him to break her trust just like that, it felt like a betrayal. But she had been lying. It was something she could get past. It would have to be, unless she wanted to face the rest of her life without him in it. And she was not prepared for that. She had a feeling that she never fucking would be. Never again.

**_Author's Note: Breaking them up was hard to do. (Catch the Full House episode title reference :P I'm a nerd. Sorry, not sorry. As always, review! _**


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